162: Chapter 151 Manuscript (Additional update with 115,000 recomndation votes from Yunqi) 162: Chapter 151 Manuscript (Additional update with 115,000 recomndation votes from Yunqi) “The teacher’s demands are too high, otherwise, tell where it’s not written well?”
“If I knew, I would have corrected it imdiately, would I still be here?
I ca because I don’t know where it’s wrong, waiting to find the flaws and then fix them.”
But Manbao obviously couldn’t convince Bai Shanbao, and the two children’s argunt got heated in front of a group of adults; they started quarreling, and in the end, Bai Shanbao angrily said, “Then give back what I wrote.
I don’t want to write with you anymore.”
“Give it back then, I don’t want to write with you either,” Manbao retorted, pulling over the cloth bag that hung in front of her chest.
This was a larger version that Ms.
He had made from saved scraps of fabric according to her instructions; it could hold a lot of things, even more convenient than the Small book box.
Manbao opened the bag and took out a stack of thick paper, briskly unfolding it and searching for the pages Bai Shanbao had written.
However, the article was a collaborative effort between them, sotis Manbao would read, Bai Shanbao would write, and when he got tired, they would switch to Bai Shanbao thinking and reading for Manbao to write.
Thus, their writings were scattered across various pages, but put together, they barely made one article.
Separately, they amounted to nothing.
However, Manbao and Bai Shanbao evidently didn’t care, and it wasn’t the first ti they had argued like this.
The two proficiently laid all the manuscript papers on the ground, then took turns pulling out their respective pages, several of which had both their handwriting.
It was always one taking over when the other got tired of writing.
They divided them decisively, taking turns, and when it ca to the last page, Manbao’s chubby hand was the first to rest on the paper.
Bai Shanbao exclaid, “Last ti we fought, you took this page, it’s my turn this ti.”
Manbao replied, “I wrote the most on this page, you only wrote three lines, it should naturally be mine.”
Seeing the two children about to fight over a single piece of paper, County Magistrate Fu couldn’t help but speak up, “Let see it.”
The two children looked up together, surprised to find, oh, the Magistrate was right there.
County Magistrate Fu: …
The crowd held back their laughter.
Then Manbao and Bai Shanbao reorganized their manuscript.
After arguing and splitting up the pages several tis, they had learned to be smart and wrote numbers at the bottom, so they didn’t even have to look, just arrange them by page number.
Bai Shanbao showed the well-organized manuscript to County Magistrate Fu, gazing at him eagerly, “Magistrate, we wrote well, didn’t we?”
How good could an article written by children who had only started learning to read be?
The entire piece was filled with childlike innocence, incredibly straightforward, lacking any literary elegance, yet it had substance.
In fact, this was an article suggesting the County Governntal Office provide ample hot als for laboring serfs, first discussing how hard the serfs work.
Of course, without flowery language, the text was direct, even childishly stating, “They are so pitiful.”
County Magistrate Fu: …
But the article didn’t just contain such language; crucially, it detailed with examples how pitiful these laborers were.
It described who had how many people in their family, their financial situations, the impact of their service on the family, what they ate for breakfast, and how much, and also listed their lunch and dinner portions.
The food provided by the County Governntal Office in the afternoon and evening was also itemized.
Obviously, this was not an article written on a whim but after investigation and evidence gathering.
Reading this childlike text, one could obviously feel the empathy.
County Magistrate Fu’s position was earned through examinations, so he certainly knew the key points of a well-written article.
It could be said that aside from lacking literary flair, this piece had all the essentials.
And if it was written by two children under seven years old, the final flaw didn’t matter much either.
A look of surprise flashed in Magistrate Fu’s eyes.
He looked down at the two children in front of him and once again glanced at the article before folding it neatly and putting it away, asking, “Can you give this article to ?”
Manbao asked, “Magistrate, do you think we wrote it well?”
County Magistrate Fu stroked his beard in praise, “Well written.”
Manbao was delighted and with that joy ca a bit of reluctance, “So when will the County Office prepare als for the laborers, how much can each person eat, are they including breakfast, and can they get enough to eat?
I have the data, Magistrate, do you want it?”
County Magistrate Fu’s mouth fell open in surprise, when had he ever ntioned he would provide als?
Glancing at the manuscript in his hand, he realized what was happening, cleared his throat, and acknowledged that his praise was for the writing, not for…
Okay, the other party was just a child, the question was ambiguous, and so was his answer.
The article was indeed well written, but it was impossible for him to prepare ample hot als for the laboring serfs, as there was no budget for that in the County Governntal Office.
The current expense for service was precedent; if he were to increase the investnt, where would the money co from?
Yet facing those two bright pairs of eyes, County Magistrate Fu found himself at a loss for words after clearing his throat.
The Assistant County Magistrate chuckled and took over, “Little girl, didn’t you just say that the Zhou Family’s stall is yours?”
Manbao nodded, “Yes.”
“If the County Office provides hot als for the laborers, then your family’s food wouldn’t sell, right?”
Manbao sighed, “Yes.”
“So do you still hope that the County Office will provide the laborers with hot als?”
“Of course,” Manbao said.
“Although it’s a sha, it’s a good thing, just like how much I love eating fish.
I used to hope every day that the river dam would break so that we could go down to the river to catch fish to eat.
But my father said that if the dam isn’t fixed, next sumr’s heavy rain might flood all of our crops, maybe even myself.
So even though it’s a sha, we should still repair the dam.”
County Magistrate Fu and everyone else: …
In the span of half a day, they had heard more than once about the dam break.
The Assistant County Magistrate turned to Bai Shanbao, asking, “Young Master, do you also think this way?”
Bai Shanbao replied, “Yes, it’s just about making money, right?
If we can’t sell food to make money, we can sell other things to make money.”
In the sumr, as soon as school was dismissed, the two children would rush outside, and Mr.
Zhuang who wanted to cook for them on a small stove had no one to cater to.
He later noticed the children enduring the scorching sun to pick Indian pennywort.
Upon inquiry, he learned that they planned to dry it and sell it to Jishi Hall.
Manbao had checked with Manager Zheng, and there was a shortage of Indian pennywort, so they needed to buy more.
At that ti, Mr.
Zhuang told them the story of chopping trees with a blunt knife versus a sharpened one, informing the children that sharpening the knife did not delay the work of chopping wood, and that reading for them was like sharpening the knife.
If they wanted to earn enough money in the future, they should prioritize their studies now because money would co if they were well-educated.
With the knowledge Keke had taught Manbao, and after discussing it seriously with Bai Shanbao, both children thought there were many ways to make money in the world and that there was no need to rush.
Therefore, at that mont, both children confidently told County Magistrate Fu and the Assistant County Magistrate, “There are so many ways to make money in the world, and not all laborers will buy food to eat.
Those who don’t buy can only drink cold water and eat cold cakes, how pitiful.”
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